The Lady In Question Read Free Page A

Stanley’s that you would run off with him, there was obviously a then. When did you next see him?”
    “The next day. At a bookseller’s, Hatchard’s, I think.” He’d scarce acknowledged her acquaintance save to tip his hat and politely recommend a book of poetry, handing it to her as he left. Inside, she’d found a scrap of paper with his signature and the words until we meet again. Later, he’d given her the same book. “And again at Lady Concord-Smythe’s soiree…”
    Lord Wilmont, Charles, was not the type of man who was generally attracted to Miss Philadelphia Effington, which she could see now made him all the more attractive. His reputation as an irresponsible spendthrift and gambler rivaled only his reputation with women. Gossip had it that he had been the ruination of more than one young woman and no respectable lady should so much as favor him with a dance. His frequent absences from London for long periods during the last decade only fueled the rumors about him.
    Still, when Wilmont did deign to make an appearance, his impeccable family ties allowed him entree into the tight-knit and somewhat hypocritical world of London society. Of course, the ladies could not fail to notice that he was exceedingly handsome, with hair the color of spun gold, a wicked twinkle in his eye and a smile that told a woman it was for her and her alone. And the gentlemen were quite aware that regardless of whatever else he may be, he always paid his debts. In addition, he was possessed of a significant fortune and bore an old and honorable title, if perhaps a bit tarnished. As for his reputation, it was all rumor and innuendo. Why, Delia had never actually met anyone who had been ruined by the man. The stories she’d heard about him might well be little more than fabrications spun by those jealous of his appearance or his wealth or his name.
    Not knowing had made him all the more mysterious and dangerous and exciting. And he wanted her. From the moment they’d met, that simple fact had made her reckless and daring, entirely different from her usual nature. She’d reveled in the difference, in who she was with him and only with him, and reveled as well in the certain knowledge that this dangerous rake wanted her not because she was an excellent match but because she was very much a woman and he was every inch a man. It was the most intoxicating sensation she’d ever known. And completely irresistible.
    “And at Lady Bradbourne’s New Year’s ball, and…” Delia smiled weakly. “I met him quite a bit, actually.”
    “Good Lord.” Cassie sank back in her chair and stared. “I can’t believe no one noticed.”
    “You’d be amazed at how easy it is to slip away from a crowded ballroom to a secluded library or empty parlor.” Delia drummed her fingers nervously on the arm-rest of the sofa. This had been her secret and hers alone for so long, it was surprisingly awkward to reveal it now, even to Cassie, the one person Delia had never kept anything from.
    “Indeed I would. I suspect you can teach me a great deal, dear sister.” Grudging admiration shone in Cassie’s eyes.
    “This is surprisingly difficult to talk about.” Delia rose to her feet and paced the room, wringing her hands absently with every step. “I had thought, given the passage of time, that it would be easy to tell you, but I find I am not at all good at confession.”
    “It is good for the soul, they say,” Cassie said primly.
    “I doubt that. My soul doesn’t feel the least bit good. Only quite, quite foolish.”
    “Nonsense. Oh, not that it wasn’t foolish,” Cassie said quickly, “every bit of it, but you probably couldn’t help falling in love with the man.”
    Delia stopped and stared at her sister, her words coming before she could stop them. “Oh, but you see, I didn’t.”
    Cassie’s brows drew together in confusion. “But I thought —”
    “Oh, I know.” Delia waved her sister quiet. “I would have thought exactly the